


islands

by niniadepapa



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2121243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniadepapa/pseuds/niniadepapa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a painful headcanon set in neverland somewhere after 3x06</p>
            </blockquote>





	islands

He fought uselessly with the binds that got him tied up to the tree that supported him. He had been knocked out - still not sure if by poppies powder from Tink, or just plain hit in the head while he was trying to sleep. The dull ache in the back of his head suggested it was the second option, but he had heard about the after effects that the powder could have, and headaches and soreness were amongst them, so he could not be completely sure.

Not that that was the problem at hand - not by a long shot.

It was the fact that his supposed allies were the ones who had made sure he was unable to fight back before tying him up to a tree in the middle of Neverland’s jungle.

Regina was pacing not far from his place, while the Charmings and Baelfire stood a little back, their expressions passing from conflicting to resolute. 

Emma’s face, he could not read. If not for the fact that she was specifically avoiding looking at him.

“For the last time, we have to move  _now_. If Pan knows we found out his friend here was helping him all along, this will all be for nothing,” Regina said impatiently, tugging at the hem of her jacket. 

Killian let his head fall back against the rough bark of the tree, regretting immediately his decision as a spark of pain made him flinch. “I have already told you, you’re  _wrong_. I have no reason to work with Pan. I  _despise_  the demon.”

He had been trying to make them see, make them  _understand_  - it was not what it looked like. He knew what Pan was playing at: set him apart from the group, spark the distrust in them, tickle the already sensitive spots each one of the people looking for Henry had until they cracked. 

They had been set up, had fallen into one of his traps. The fact that it had been one of Killian’s own ideas that had led them to that place and at that moment still lingered in his memory, like a dead weight he had to carry over his shoulders - but he had no one but himself to blame for choosing to stick with the plan he had designed following fake leads, put together by the demon himself. Add in Pan and his group of snotty brats crowing and taunting the Charmings about how it had been  _‘the pirate who had led them to where he wanted’_  and all hell had broken loose. 

At first they had offered him the benefit of the doubt: after all, he had sailed them there, offered his help to search for the boy, and even saved the prince’s life since they had gotten to that forsaken realm. He had really thought they would not fall for Pan’s taunts, had believed they would rather trust what his actions had been screaming since he had sailed back to Storybrooke with the bean and given it up so they could rescue Henry. 

Had thought they had learnt to trust him.

Regina set him with a glare. “You despised my mother, you certainly didn’t get along with Greg and Tamara, not to mention with me - we both know that’s no excuse to team with somebody, huh?”

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Your Majesty, with all the respect, you lot have  _nothing_ to do compared to him.”

Seemingly offended by that, the queen put her hands on her hips and appeared to be ready to berate him or give him up as a meal to some Nevercreature, but was rudely interrupted by Baelfire.

“There’s always an ulterior motive with you. Why would this time be any different?”

Killian could almost hear the tiny flare hope he had stubbornly harbored about them giving in and finally believing him drop to the ground and stepped on. “Bae, please…,” he pleaded. 

He should have known the resentment the boy - now man - had held against him was greater than he had imagined. Or maybe he should also add to the pressing issues standing between them the tension he may have noticed Killian and the Savior shared after their kiss. 

“It’s Neal now. See? You have no reason at all to come here, to save Henry. Why do it at all if it weren’t for something you sought?”

Killian gulped, his eyes wandering on his own accord from the ground to Emma. He almost lost his resolve when he saw that she was finally staring back, fixing him with those eyes, as green and deep as the bravest seas he had sailed. 

“Maybe I was offered something after realizing your father’s demise wasn’t as rewarding as I had thought,” he managed in what could only be described as a whisper. He could see Emma flinching slightly from the corner of his eye, but Neal just met his eyes steadily for a moment. Then, he shook his head, and he knew there was nothing he could possibly say to change his mind.

It was too late.

“Yeah, well, I’m not buying it. I won’t risk my son’s rescue for you.”

Killian’s breath stopped. The gap between Baelfire and him could not be restored, at least not for now. If he wanted to be set free and welcomed back into the group, the only one who would grant it would be their leader.

As if whatever that had been building between them wasn’t challenging enough, now Pan was set on ruining every chance he got at growing closer with anybody. It was as if he knew how much he craved the human contact, the intimacy, the camaraderie - and knew exactly what to do to take it away from him.

“Emma,” he said, swallowing back a huff of anger when he noticed she was avoiding looking at him again. “Emma… Please look at me.”

He knew of her lies reading thing, her ‘little secret’, as she had referred to when they first met and saw right through the ruse he had put up in the Enchanted Forrest. She would know he was being honest, she  _had_  to, she  _needed_  to. 

She put her hands inside the back pockets of those trousers she wore, and he had to hide the small grin threatening to claim his lips at the gesture: she didn’t want to look nervous. He had started taking account of her mannerisms, her quirks, the little things that summed up made her the beautiful, stubborn and enigmatic woman he had been unawarely falling for. 

Emma gave one step back from him, and his heart started picking up pace, knowing that could only lead to trouble: Emma wanted to run.

And he knew how good she was at running.

“I can’t. You made a deal with Pan before, who’s to say you didn’t make another one, if you brought us all here because he asked you to, or…”

He had never in his agonizingly long life wanted more to be out of the ties that bound him just so he could walk up to her, hold her,  _shake_  her.

_Kiss her._

Make her  _see_.

Instead, he could only plead and beg from his pathetic place, bound against a tree. “I know the lost girl in you is brought out in this land, but you can’t let it take over.”

“That’s not it, I just… how can I…,” she stuttered, passing a hand through her hair, and he _knew_. 

“You can’t handle trusting  _me_ ,” he interrupted her. That was it. That was the thing between them, really: she would never trust him, no matter what he did. She was too broken, had been burnt too many times. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was.

He should have expected it, but he hadn’t.

_You’re so stupid, Jones._

Inhaling heavily, he inclined his head, noticing belatedly how they had left his hook a few paces before him. How considerate of them: in case he got out of his binds, he could take it back. As long as no lost boy, creature or vengeful pixie stumbled upon him, he may have a chance of making it.

Maybe. 

“Fair enough. The pirate is not going anywhere, I assure you. No giant to befriend this time to let me go, I suppose,” he added as an afterthought, and smiled minimally at the thought.

How could the memory of her first abandonment make him smile was beyond him, but here he was.

Emma appeared to be even more shocked than him and his acknowledging the giant lair’s battle, and she stared at him, lips parted in bewilderment, no sounds escaping them. He looked back at her, and he didn’t know what she may have seen, but she clenched hers shut after a moment and turned her back to him, and he sighed, defeated.

It was done.

David’s tentative plea broke the moment. “Maybe we should…”

“Don’t bother, mate. There’s a reason I’m a villain in those stories of your world, after all,” he said, cutting David’s soft attempt at offering his help. He was grateful, he really was, but there was no point. 

Not anymore.

He nodded gravelly at Emma, who had been picking up her things while Mary Margaret and the Queen did the same. He met her eyes for the last time and hoped desperately that she could read every emotion he was experiencing.

Hurt. Anger. Pride. Heartbreak.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he said, and dropped his gaze, staying focused on the ties around him as he heard them leave, fighting the urge to stare at their retreating backs, ignoring the pity in David and maybe Snow’s eyes, a huffing Regina and a somehow still shaken Neal.

But specially the glistening in Emma’s eyes. 

.

“Nice to see you again, Lost Girl.”

Pan’s amused voice halted her. She turned her head to look at Regina, and the small group gathered closer and readied their stance, fearing they had been set up once again. Her hand came  to the back of her head to pick up her sword - Neal’s sword - the sword that Hook had given her - she internally winced at the thought but immediately shook the thought away, gathering her bearings and glaring at Pan, not liking at all the smug expression on his face.

“Can’t say I’m with you there. Where is Henry?”

Pan didn’t look ready for a fight, and it unsettled her. If he wasn’t there to attack them again, then what did he want? “Oh, he’s fine, believe me.”

Her snort was more like a growl. “Yeah, right, like  _that_  would make me trust you.”

The look he gave her sent chills running down her spine, and fear coursed through her veins, fast and free. “I know. Funny how you can’t let yourself do that, huh?”

“Do what?,” she asked, raising an eyebrow, confused.

“ _Trust_.”

She stiffened. 

This… kid, whatever the hell he was, was a complete pro at playing with her emotions, her weaknesses. She could not let him get to her, not now, not when getting Henry was on the line, when they were so close to him. But how had he known it wasn’t just Henry on her mind…?

“Don’t listen to him,” Neal admonished from her left, and she saw Pan smirking in his direction, tilting his head to the side as he studied the former Lost Boy with curiosity.

“Oh, and why would that be, Baelfire?”

Neal advanced a step towards him, pointing at him with his crossbow. “You have always been too fond of mind games. I’m not about to let you fool us again.”

Pan laughed derisively. How a kid so apparently young could be so… ruthless, so cold; Emma had no idea. What was his deal? What had happened to him to turn him into this? “I’m not fooling anybody here. She talked about believing me - and of course she has no reason to. I took away her son and kept him from her, my boys poisoned her father with the Dreamshade, I have tried to mess with you all since you got here.”

Her knuckles had turned white gripping the sword, her vision tinting red as she heard him recount everything he had done since Henry fell through that portal along with Greg and Tamara. “Going down memory lane is  _not_  helping your cause - what’s your point?”

Pan returned his gaze to her, and that earlier chill at the knowing expression he wore was back. “As I said, it’s only normal for you to not trust  _me_. But what about the captain?”

Emma felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her lungs. Dread was settling over her skin, taking a hold of her limbs and stealing her words away.

Before she could ask him what the hell he wanted, Neal already beat her to the punch. “He was working for you. We know that.”

“Actually… no.”

Emma had no idea if it was the out-of-control beating of her heart making her see things, but she would swear over a stack of Bibles that the git had looked in her direction when she said that.

_Oh God._

She gulped loudly, clenching her eyes shut.  _Get your shit together. You have to find Henry_. “And we’re back to me not believing anything you have to say.”

Pan rose his eyebrows, amused. “Really? You’re more than welcome to believe me or not, but why would I tell you then? What purpose would I have?”

“You just said it yourself: to mess with us.”

He approached a couple of steps until he was right in front of her, and she could sense her parents and Regina mimicking him, all of them pointing their weapons at him. They shouldn’t have bothered, though: she knew he didn’t have any intention in hurting her. Not yet, at least. That was not why he was there. “But I already did, didn’t I? Plant that seed of doubt in you so you would not let yourself trust him? Again? Abandoning him?  _Again_?” He tutted at her, shaking his head. “Bad form, Lost Girl. You should know better than anybody else in here how _that_  feels. Especially when it comes to our dear pirate - and you.”

She had no words left. She couldn’t wrap her head around what he had said. What she had feared all along, since they had left him, tied up to a tree, just like that first time they had met him, in another realm - but back then he had lied to them, and here, everything had pointed at him doing the same, and…

David spoke from behind her, a growl for all purposes directed at Pan as his sword waved threateningly in the kid’s face. “It was  _you_. You orchestrated all that so it would look like he was working for you.”

Pan was grinning from ear to ear - a cruel grin that thinned his lips and didn’t reach his eyes. “I knew the prince was warming up to Hook. I have to say it still surprises me, but who am I to judge.” 

He seemed as if he was about to add something else, but Regina conjured one of her trademark fireballs with her right hand and pointed it at him. “Enough of this - where is Henry?”

Apparently fireballs were not too intimidating in Neverland, if Pan’s unbothered expression said so. “I told you already. He’s fine. He’s happy.”

“Like hell he is,” she hissed back not missing a beat. 

Pan’s amusement fled, and all that was left was that cold fury, that possessive spark that had seeped into his speech whenever he mentioned her son.

“I told you: he hasn’t forgiven you - neither of you. You all have failed him, made him feel unloved, lost. He’s  _mine_  now.”

David’s sword didn’t move an inch, ready to strike as soon as he saw fit. “Yeah, I don’t think there are any more spots left for that kid’s parental figures, thank you very much. Now tell us where he is.”

“You can ask him soon enough, don’t you worry,” Pan supplied with a careless shrug. 

Emma’s ears perked at that - was he offering to see Henry? To actually talk to him at all? “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Baelfire here can attest to how I am willing to leave the choice in the lost boys hands. If Henry wants to go with you, I will let him go - but if he wants to stay, on the other hand…”

“We are  _not_  making any deals with you,” Neal said, and she turned to him, concerned. What the hell was he talking about? If this psycho followed some sort of code of honor he would feel obligated to comply to what he had promised. And damn, he offered them the option of asking Henry, she knew her son would  _always_  choose them. He knew they loved them. She guessed it wouldn’t be so easy - maybe they had done something to him so he would struggle with his resolution to go back home, but they could form a plan after stating some conditions on first seeing her son and…

Pan cut her rambling thoughts as he laughed. “Oh, how history repeats itself… you reek of the same cowardice your father does, Baelfire. Even stooping so low as to talking trash about the pirate in the savior’s ear. Bad form indeed.”

She closed her eyes, trying and failing miserably to forget how Neal had indeed told her all he thought about Hook and how they shouldn’t trust him, especially after their suspicions about the pirate helping Pan sneak an attack on them. She should have known better than letting his past with him interfere with their current situation.

_You should have known better than let your own feelings for him interfere too._

“Shut up,” Neal snarled back, the crossbow trembling along with his arms in cold fury.  

Pan put his hands up in front of him mockingly, and sighed dramatically, spinning on his heel as if he was about to leave on his merry way. 

Which he was, actually. 

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he tossed over his shoulder carelessly, not minding at all that he had several deadly weapons currently pointed at his back. 

“Wait!” She had yelled at his retreating form before she had time to realize what she actually wanted to do. He turned to look at her, an eyebrow cocked interestedly as he waited for her to speak. “If Hook wasn’t really working for you, where is he?”

She had never been so thankful for having an actual sword on her hands, or she would be wringing them for everyone else to spy the dread and slight hysteria rising and growing inside of her.

“Oh… let’s say he’s not having too much fun right now,” he smirked. 

She threw caution to the wind then, a rush of anger driving her step, leaving the rest behind as she marched forward to stand nose to nose with him. “What did you do to him?”

He stood his ground, glaring back at her with as much contempt she had ever seen in such a young face. “I guess you won’t find out. Though I’ll tell you this much: he’s as lost as you are, savior.” He inched closer to her, and she refrained the urge to pull back, not wanting to let him know she was indeed intimidated. “Just as I told him long ago: he’ll die  _alone_  and  _unloved_.”

The small gasp that she let out at the implications of his words was immediately forgotten as her arm leapt out, her sword going to his neck and her free hand to his hair in an attempt to threaten him until he told her where they kept Hook. “Where is he? Tell me!”

But he had disappeared, just like that, leaving her to fall to her knees and fighting back the prickling of tears behind her eyes at the notion that she had, again, failed everybody.

And feeling as lost as Pan had promised her Hook was.

.

“Hook? Hook!”

Killian’s whole body trembled at the sound. That voice… it couldn’t be. He would swear it was her voice, but it was impossible.

But it had come so close, too close, as if she was right  _there_.

But that was impossible - not to say senseless. What would she be doing there? After all, she had decided to leave him once again. She had no reason to trust him, and she was someone who stuck to her decisions. 

She had no reason to be there for him. To search for him, to care at all.

But her voice…

He opened bleary eyes, flinching at the stinging of the cuts on his forehead and eye. Not long after Emma and the rest had left him in their camp, Pan and a small group of his boys had taken him - not forgetting to knock him out for the second time that day so they could carry him without incident, - and brought him to one of their underground cells. Sadly, Killian had been there before, knew the wall and ropes hanging from it now coiling around his wrists, knew the lamp giving the only light to the room, the smelly, ratty cot that he couldn’t even reach, leaving him no option but to stay on his knees or slumped sitting against the stained, mossy wall. At that time, he had had a crew to help him out - he had had a clever mind willing to do anything to get out of that rathole. 

Now, he had nobody. More importantly, he had nothing to compel him to fight.

Nobody who cared. Nothing to live for.

Focusing on the figure moving in the other end of the room and approaching with cautious steps, he was more than perplexed to notice pale, blond hair and a fair complexion. 

He had to be dreaming. It had to be that. Maybe he was dead - but then, he had to wonder why it wasn’t Milah’s voice welcoming him, or the ones from the enemies he had taken down during his years of seafaring and pillaging. 

Focusing harder, he realized that it was indeed Emma standing in front of him, the concern and anxiety clouding her features almost making him laugh. 

The  _nerve_  of the demon.

“That’s bloody funny, Pan. Using Swan against me? For what purpose exactly?,” he wondered aloud, still observing how she approached him like afraid of him pouncing on her as soon as he was out of those ropes. At his words, though, she stopped, confusion clear on her face. 

“Hook, it’s me.”

He snorted - promptly causing him to cough, spitting a small line of blood after he had been kicked hours before by Felix, in retaliation for what he had reminded him he did to Rufio. “Sure it’s you, love. Looking all concerned and shaken by guilt because you found out I wasn’t lying after all.  _Of course_.”

Fighting some sort of struggle with herself, she walked up to him until she was kneeling by his side, and biting her lip, her hand came up, shivering as it hovered over his face. “What did they do to you?”

Killian had to give it to Pan’s shadow: it was quite the actor. The quivering of her voice, the unsettled stance at the prospect of touching him, the remorse in her eyes - they were so inherently hers it positively hurt to look at her and know it was not her.

“I have to admit your Shadow is quite striking, Pan,” he commended with a nod, but he was immediately baring his teeth at her. “It won’t work, though. So get your bloody paws off me, now, if you don’t want me to bite them off.”

Killian was really fighting the urge not to do good on his promise and bite her hand as it finally stopped its fight and grasped his hand urgently. “Hook, it’s me, please,  _please_ , believe me. We have to get you out of here. We have to get Henry, remember?”

He let out a low growl under his breath. How  _dare_  he.

“Believe you? Just like  _you_  believe in me?,” he snarled, pure and unadulterated rage lacing his question. He felt a sick pleasure in seeing her recoil minimally, her shoulders wincing. The shadow-Emma inhaled loudly, bracing herself - for what, he would love to know. Maybe she was about to finally strike him, get it done.

Finally.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He was startled - he had hoped the game to end. There was nothing they wanted to do with him anymore: he was useless, he had nothing to offer them. They had questioned him, tried to gather every little information they could get from him about their quest, but he had refused. As hurt as he might be with Emma, Baelfire, the queen and the Charmings for leaving him behind to rot in the jungle, he would never compromise their rescue mission. She  _had_  to find her boy.

And he would make sure he was not in the way of her doing so.

“I’d give a damn about your apologies if they were actually true,” he managed in between a hiss of pain as he moved and his not-completely-healed ribs, now beaten once more, protested at the movement. “Get out of here. It won’t work, you demon.”

Her hands foregoing his own went to cup his cheeks, forcing him to meet her eyes. God, how he loved her eyes, the fire in them, the spark, the haze… 

“Hook, it’s me. Emma. Savior Emma. Pissed-off Emma. Rum-drinking buddy Emma. Please, trust me, it’s me, it’s not Pan’s trick,” she almost stuttered, desperately running her fingers through his flushed skin, and he guiltily let himself savor the moment, even if knowing it was not really Emma touching him, asking him to trust her, to believe her.

_What a game you’re playing, Pan._

“Right, Savior Emma: recall how we are in Neverland, a land run on imagination - a land where Pan knows everything that happens. A land run on  _belief_ ,” he pointed out, attempting to rise an eyebrow cockily as he did. Belief.  _Right as you didn’t believe in me, you stubborn imp._  “I no longer believe in anything, darling.”

She grasped his hand so forcefully, he feared she was about to break it. Maybe that was Pan’s plan all along: cutting off the other one. “You do. I know you do,” she implored, and he was horrified to discern that sudden realization in her eyes. He knew what she was about to do right before she did it. He moved before she could slant her mouth against his, and could not ignore the fury coursing through him. Pan knew everything that happened in Neverland, it was no surprise he knew about his feelings for Emma, and possibly about their kiss, but using it against him was positively wicked. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare come any closer. Don’t you taint that moment.”

She looked mortified - and if not hurt by his denial, but he had learned to see this Shadow as quite a perfect Emma lookalike, so he was not about to be deterred, no matter how many pouts she gave him in order to kiss her. “Hook - we can’t wait anymore, we have to leave. Please,  _please_ , I can’t leave you here.” 

Killian was getting tired of this already, and he made sure to make it known. “Listen,  _Swan_ : I know how this works. Shadow takes form of Swan, tricks me into hoping that she actually gives a damn about me, makes me talk too much, and finally spills my guts into the fire after getting the information and making me realize that I had been wrong all along.  _Again_.” He finished and let his head slump against the wall, pulling back from her. He was done, sated. Now, he  _knew_  he really was, not when he had thought he had killed the Crocodile. 

Again: nobody who cared, nothing to live for. 

“I am not the stupid Shadow! It’s me, can’t you see?” She was crying now, tears rolling down her cheeks, and he hated himself for making Emma cry, even if it was some sick version of Emma in her place. The real Emma would never cry, or would never let him see her cry. She didn’t care about him, so it would make sense for her not wanting him to see her at her most vulnerable.

Lifting his hand - his one and only hand - and ignoring the burn of the rope on his wrist, he gently wiped one of them away from her face. “I no longer see you, Emma. Not anymore.”

She dropped her head, her golden hair a halo hiding her from him. He abhorred himself from itching to ask her to never stop looking at him, even knowing that it was all a ruse, a cruel plan of Pan to deliver another blow to his broken self…

“You called me beautiful.”

He froze, his hand halting in the path it had been taking over the apple of her cheek. “What?”

She lifted her head to peek at him from under her lashes, and he swallowed in confusion and growing concern as he recognized that glint in those eyes.

 _Hope_. 

“Back in Storybrooke. When I found you after you were hit by Greg’s car, you were hurt and you called me beautiful.” She inched closer to him, noses almost brushing, and he had to control his breathing or he might pass out again and  _God she was there, it was really her_ and… “The Shadow would not know that, would it?”

The Shadow would not know that, indeed, but a part of Killian still grasped at the idea of this Emma, kneeling in the dirt at his side, crying and upset because of him not believing it was her, here, rescuing him, after leaving him behind…. It was too much.

He was so afraid of letting himself hope to get forgotten, left and abandoned behind again…

Just like she was. Like she had.

“Emma?,” he managed in the end, her name, just her name, a question and a prayer all laced in one word, such a beautiful word. As soon as she heard it, she broke down, dropping her forehead against his neck and her sobs echoing against the underground cave’s walls. He could only bury his face against the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent and praying for her to let him out of those ties so he could run his fingers through her hair again as he held her.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry for leaving you,” she hiccuped against the skin of his neck, the trails of her tears damping his cheek while she pulled back to stare at him, fear and regret etched on her features.

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against hers. “Hello, beautiful.”


End file.
